Who Do You Think You Are?
by MichelleyLou
Summary: Bad breakup, two narrators living in the aftermath.


Trent   
  
She stared at me from the dining room. I pretended not to see her, but out of the corner of my limited peripheral vision I could see her smile. It wasn't a smile, really. I mean yes, her lips were curled upward and separated enough to reveal her not-so pearly whites, but the gleam in her eyes added an odd twist to her face. I imagined her thoughts containing vivid images of her slaughtering me, rope around my neck, with my abdomen spilling out my intestines and blood pouring down my legs from the gaping hole she'd created with her bare hands. Frowning, I continued with my work, replacing the clean fan screens to their position.   
  
David was working beside me, removing the metal covering on the grease vats. I watched as he took the large piece of steel the sink, sighing as he went. We were going to have to move fast if we wanted to get home at a decent hour.   
  
Adrienne   
  
I gazed at Trent and David as they grudgingly took apart the grease vats. It was 11:45 pm and I was growing tired. I didn't see much use in leaving, though, because I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep anyways. There's a chance I might've walked home if it hadn't been so cold outside. Every few minutes I saw Trent look over at me in half-second glances. I used to try to read his expressions to see if he was mad at me, wondering what it was now that I had done wrong. I was always doing something wrong. That's why we broke up. Well, the first time. I would do something that would make him mad and we would fight till he was blue in the face and I was in tears. Try as I might, I could never make him happy. It was his game, to rule me. He was good at it too. I felt right into his trap. I felt as though I had taken so much of his crap that I could have a yard sale with it.   
  
This time though, I wasn't looking to see what his face had to say. Every muscle in my body ached. I hurt so much I wanted to rip my heart out and shove it down his throat. I'd let him hurt me once, twice, three times, and I couldn't do it anymore. It was time for me to get over him, but if I couldn't, I was just going to have to pretend.  
  
Trent   
  
Still scrubbing excess carbon off the back of the vats, I looked up at David. He was speaking to me, his voice unusually loud for such a skinny guy. "This is Jessica's job, why should we do it?" he whined. He had been complaining all night, and I was getting really tired of it. Adrienne still sat in the dining room, buried beneath notebooks of poetry and short stories. Her head bobbed up and down to the beat of the angry sounding music in her Sony CD player. She mouthed the words, her face still bearing that same sick grin. Every once in a while I'd catch her looking at me, but I refused to hold her gaze.   
  
She was actually somewhat pretty. It was just too bad that she was so stupid. When I'd tell her not to do something anymore - those aggravating little quirks I'd grown to despise - she would keep right on doing it. Then she would get emotional when I was mad at her because of it. She kept asking questions like, "What did I do?" even though she already knew, or said things to make me feel badly, like, "Oh well, I'm sorry I'm not perfect enough for you." God! It was so agitating.   
  
My green scrubbing pad was wearing so thin my fingers were rubbing the still blackened metal. Too tired to go get another one, I set my pad down and sighed. This was going to have to be good enough for tonight. "Dave," I said as I looked up at him, "you ready to put this back?" He nodded and with both eyebrows raised. We pushed the vat station back into place beneath the fans.   
  
When I stood up, she was standing three feet from me, her face solemn, her hands stuffed deep inside the pocket of her crimson Dickies sweatshirt. It had always puzzled me how quickly she changed moods. The fact that she was still at the restaurant at all pissed me off. She had been off the clock for over two hours by then, and did not look like she was about to say goodbye and go home. I knew what was coming. I turned to face her but my eyes drifted downward to the paper towel I was wiping my hands on. "Can I please have a ride home? Please?" she was practically begging. I met her gaze for a split second, and then turned to throw my dirty paper towel into the trash. Her tone disgusted me. I had already refused once earlier tonight. Why couldn't she just go home and leave me alone? Her idea of a ride home was driving to her house, sitting in my car and talking about things that 'concerned' her. Her persistent manner, however, showed she wasn't about to let me get out of this tonight. "Whatever Adrienne."  
  
Adrienne   
  
I stepped into his car, receiving nasty looks from Jessica who had wanted to sit in the front at all costs but had still winded up in the backseat. The front seat had been my place since Trent had bought the car, and I wasn't ready to give up on it, or him. I glanced at Trent, who kept his eyes focused on the wheel, and sighed. I knew what he thought of me, I just couldn't figure out why. I remembered him calling me a liar, but never mentioning what I had lied about. His arguments had never had reason, and I had called him on it every time. It had frustrated him, but he would argue about the dumbest things, like how many pickles went on a cheeseburger. Oh, but the worst was when he would tell me I was "doing it again" but continuously failed to mention exactly what "it" was. How was I supposed to change if he wouldn't tell me what was wrong?   
  
Trent revved the gas, and we sped off. Suddenly I felt like the third wheel, the pulled-up chair at a table for two. Trent flew toward my house, and my stomach lunged forward. "So you're dropping me off first, huh?" I asked. Jessica was always dropped off first. The thought of Trent and Jessica alone together only added to my queasiness. What if I had wanted to ask Trent something privately?  
  
"Yup," had been the reply from the backseat. Her tone was smug, her breath floated forward to the front of the car like a hand that had stopped to flip me off before suffocating me. "It's just easier that way." I couldn't believe her. She was supposed to be my friend. Trent and I had only broken up for the second time the day before, and already she was trying to wedge her two-faced, potato-like, pudgy self between us.   
  
The car turned a corner and sped even faster down the dimly lit street. My mouth watered and my lower lip quivered. "Trent, you need to slow down, I think I'm going to be sick." He slowed down slightly. "I'm sorry," he spat, never taking his eyes off the road. He sounded anything but sorry.  
  
When we pulled into my driveway I slipped out, stumbling partly from nausea, partly from the furious meteorites raining in my mind. 'He loves ME,' I thought. 'Just because he talks to you more at work, it doesn't mean he would ever date you!' I let myself into the house, barely caring whether or not I woke my parents.  
  
I climbed into bed and began thinking, trying to figure out what I had done wrong to make him loathe me. I wished he really did hate me; maybe then it wouldn't have been so hard to let him go. My heart hurt and tears fell silently from my eyes. They crept across my face and rested softly on my pillowcase, creating a small pool of self-hatred and broken-heartedness. 


End file.
